Cross-over drabbles
by HollowedSorrow
Summary: Just a series of drabbles. Mostly related to one another. Some are stand alone. Avengers and Harry Potter Crossovers won't be the only ones uploaded here.
1. Chapter 1

AN: This is AU. It takes place in no particular timeline but my main basis is the Avengers Movie of 2012 and the HP books all happen except the epilogue. Corrections are more than welcome, especially if I'm not portraying a character right but still keep in mind that this is an AU. As far as I can see this going I won't be doing any pairings soon, even if it does seem like I will, I won't. Unless it's canon. Oh, and Peter has a room/ floor in the tower but he still lives with his aunt as far as I know. Just correct me.

**Disclaimer: **I own none of the characters or their canon stories, they have rightful owners, I'm just writing a fanfic.

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'Peter! Are you okay!? What happened? Did- '_Chill_, Cap. Do you see anything wrong here, besides my wrecked tower? Nope. Nada. Nothing. Just a bunch of weird teenagers standing in my wrecked-. ' 'We get it, Tony.' Bruce, sighing exasperatedly, was getting a bit perplex with the situation they were in and Tony being…well, Tony wasn't helping his anxiety at the moment.

It was around noon (Tony was finally about to eat because of Pepper's constant bullying, Hawk-eye just got down from his nest after napping, Tasha was practicing darts on Tony, he was tinkering on one of the pet projects he and Tony were working on, Captain America was back from a work out, Thor was spending time with his pop tarts) when they gotten word of attacks taking place in lower Manhattan and one near the Avengers Tower only after they left.

Except Peter was there. With friends. With no help.

Why did they have to attack on a weekend? So half of them (Tony, Steve and Bruce) quickly rushed to help/rescue the new semi-official Avenger; according to J.A.R.V.I.S. Loki was spotted during the attack on the tower.

Only now they were greeted by a bunch of confused minions ('They were easily taken of, after all _I_ was there.' 'Tony?' 'Yes, Bruce?' 'Shut up, please?'), and three teens with confused and bewildered faces, and a partially wrecked tower.

Going back to the present Bruce asked, 'Peter what happened here?'

'Yeah kid, who thrashed my tower? J.A.R.V.I.S. said something about Loki but I was kind of busy at the time. And isn't there supposed to be four of you?'

'Yeah…me, Gwen, Wade and Harry.' Peter still looked a bit dazed, and so were Gwen and Wade.

'Well all I see are three hormone-crazy monkeys, where's the fourth?' Tony replied. Bruce admonished him('Tony that's not nice.') but was ignored. It was Gwen who replied.

'Harry…he… and Loki…'

'He what, Miss Stacy?' Steve patiently asking the still bewildered teen.

'Uh, Loki, uh….I still need to recover from getting my mind blown.' Wade was holding his head now.

'Aw come on! Someone tell me already.'

Peter was able to gather his wit long enough to say: 'Loki came here leading the attack, you know the works…then he saw Harry. And I think he broke down?' Peter was frowning a bit, looking perplexed before continuing, 'He was suddenly hugging Harry by the waist and was sobbing, babbling in Norse…I think. And suddenly they were gone.'

'…' Silence, then.

'Pete, you sure you three ain't high?'

'I wish, it would explain so much if we were.'

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AN: It may take a while for another update, school and all. Do leave a review.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** _I own none of the characters in this story. This is just an AU I wrote._

**AN:** Thank you to my Beta for checking my story before I posted it today.

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"Why would my brother deem it necessary to abduct a defenseless youth if young Peter was there?"

"That's what we'd all like to know to know as well, Thor."

All of the Avengers were back at the tower. Miss Stacy was home by then but asked to them to tell her of when they find Harry.

"I already told you what happened," Peter was getting agitated that they insist on recounting the tale once more; he really needed to find his friend! Who knows what Loki might be doing to the Britt?

"What were all of you doing in the tower anyway?" When Natasha heard what happened…she didn't know what to believe. Honestly Loki breaking down because of a kid? But she needed to focus and make sure that she gets her facts right so they can begin looking for the kid.

"We were finishing a school project."

"I get that Wilson and that Stacy girl being here, since they know about Spider man, but what about this Harry? Did he know?"

"Yeah he knew."

"And you're sure he can be trusted to keep his mouth shut?"

Implying that his friend was stupid enough to tell the press or something along those lines may not have been good idea. "_Yes," _Peter practically hissed defending his friend, "he knew I was Spidey before Wade and Gwen. Plus Tony likes him."

"What does—Tony?" Too lazy to get up from his seat but affronted with the look Natasha gave him, implying it _must_ be his fault the kid was taken, Tony responded. "Hey I didn't do anything,"

"Fine let's say I believe you Tony. Do you think 'Harry' is trustworthy?"

"Yep. He's British what's not to trust?" She should have known that was would be his reason. "All of the Englishmen I've ever met were awesome."

"Tony, J.A.R.V.I.S. does not count."

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"You know I just noticed something," They were finally able to get some semblance of order and were reviewing the file they gathered about Harry when Steve pointed it out. " Isn't weird that Harry and Loki have the same hair and eye color?"

That froze everyone.

"Are you suggesting that…," Peter did not want to finish that line of thought, ever. "Besides Harry has a file! I mean he didn't just pop out of nowhere!"

Bruce agreed he had also read the file they were able to gather.

_Harry James Potter, seventeen years of age, born on July 31, 1995 to James and Lily Potter, both deceased. Born and lived in England before family moved when he was eighteen months old because of his father's job, a businessman. Orphaned at three due to a car accident that killed his parents, he survived with only minor injuries on him. His mother's sister refused to take him in and his father had no living relatives left. Was put through foster care, often changed families, not because host families didn't like it just happened; lives on his own now in an apartment twenty minutes away from the school he was attending on foot, shares more than half of his classes with Peter and works part-time at a coffee shop two blocks to the east of his apartment. Around 5"8" in height, a bit underweight, pale but not sickly, allergic to raspberries, owns Tom, a small black kitten._

But still, "Peter we can't rule out the possibility that Loki-"Pardon me for a moment but can one of you pass me the photograph of this 'Harry' we are supposed to rescue? I had not the time to check how he looked. And I would like to know why you think his similarity to Loki is troubling."

That shut them up long enough for Tony to activate one of the screens to show Thor what Harry looked like. "Sure buddy, knock yourself out."

"OH! Hmm," Thor got up, a bewildered and disbelieving frown on his face, to get a closer look of the image before saying after a relatively long silence, "Everything alright, Thor."

"I find it most disturbing that this 'Harry' looks exactly the same as my and Loki's godfather."

"You have a godfather, since when?"

"…Tony…"

"What? It's a valid question."

"That is not the most troubling part," Thor continued on, finally getting a hang on Tony's quirks and oddities, "Our godfather was also named 'Harry'…."

The silence that followed was not comforting to anyone in the room. Peter didn't know what to feel, everyone in the room actually. What was the worse? Loki taking Harry because he fathered him or has some sort of sick infatuation with him _or_ Loki taking Harry because of his resemblance to Loki and Thor's godfather.

"We _really _need to find them soon because I don't think my brain can handle another meltdown today." Shuddering as he said this, Wade successfully knocked everyone out of their stupor.

"Right…Tony, Bruce I want you two to try and trace Loki. He has got to have left some sort of trace if he used some form of magic." Steve was shocked at what Thor had just said but nonetheless he has a job to do and finding the teenager kidnapped by a god/alien was his first priority. He can worry about the reasons later. Thankfully the rest of the team were of the same mind, sort of, and wanted to find the boy end this weird day.

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**AN: **Thanks to all who reviewed and followed this story, I'll try to update soon but expect at least every other weekend or so for an update.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:**_I own none of the characters nor their series._

**AN:**_I know I said I'd update next week but I manage to upload this today because of free time. Also this is chapter is __**not**__ an _**Avengers Crossover**_. But this is still part of my drabbles, it's connected to what I've already uploaded and what I'll upload soon. This is a_ **_'The Sandman/The Endless'_**_ Crossover. It's written by Neil Gaiman._

_Also thanks to my beta: _**toady28.**

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Death, a word so often uttered day by day. A word feared because of its implications and finality. Death, so mysterious and alluring, it causes so much confusion. How can one mourn for the death of a person and celebrate the demise of another. Death, believed to be the end of all; that nothing good can ever come from it. People, humans, finding a cure for death like it is some abhorrent disease.

Death takes many forms, known by humans in so many names. Sometimes as defenseless child silently watching as destruction falls upon her home, other times a faceless soldier following the order of his delusional superior on a suicidal mission, seldom a harmless black cat the only witness to a crime most heinous, usually a frightening skeletal figure clad in dark robes leaning down to grab an unfortunate soul; Death holds no true gender.

But sometimes it is easier to think Death as a she. After all, the females of the populace are the ones that give birth to new life; so wouldn't it be logical, if the anthropomorphous representation of Death would be a female?

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Death was a pale and slim figure. She had wild hair that was so dark that it could blend with the darkness of night yet still be able to stand out. Her eyes were equally dark as well, yet there was a certain quality that makes it so _light._ She was usually clothed nowadays in casual clothes, right at the moment she's in a simple black tank top and skinny jeans paired with black combat boots. Never forget the Horus Eye-like make up motif and her signature silver ankh around her neck.

Right now, she was supposed to collect the soul of a troubled single mother who lived in Wisconsin that had a drug addict for a daughter (not that the mother knew as far as she was concerned she was still in college getting her degree in psychology). But just after she grabbed the mother's soul out of her body, the sad Ms. F. Jones, she felt it. Something that did not belong here in this continuum, yet oddly enough it felt familiar to her. It felt a lot like…her, for lack of better words, but at the same time not.

What could possibly feel like Death but not be her?

Puzzled and slightly annoyed that she could not answer her own question she decided to walk around, see if she could track down this presence. That in it-self puzzled her as well. Usually she'd be more than happy to leave things be whenever weird shit goes down. Because really she had no business in what was happening, besides collecting the souls of the casualties of whatever happens ends.

But she could sense that whatever this presence-_disturbance_-was, means no harm or wants to cause anything, which baffled her more as she shouldn't be, couldn't be sensing these feelings. What was causing it?

Letting her feet take her to where ever the presence was and days later it led her to Boston. The neighborhood she ended up in was a typical Boston sight. But what could have led her here?

She continued to wander the Boston streets trying to pinpoint the exact location of the thing that brought her there but she could sense that whatever it was, it was on the move as well. She could've stayed in one part of Boston to see if at one point her target would pass by but she was never good at staying in one place for a long time. And, as Death, she still had a job to do.

Until finally she found what caught her attention: a boy. A seemingly harmless and innocent looking teenaged boy, he looked short for her eyes. He wore a comfortable looking blue sweater and a pair of faded frayed jeans and worn grey sneakers. He had the same paleness that she possessed and the same dark and wild quality her hair had as well. But the boys eyes….they looked were a sickly acid-like green that was at the moment staring at the for rent sign for an apartment posted on the window of the local bakery he was standing in front of.

And then as though he felt her gaze on him, they were suddenly staring at each other eye to eye.

That's when it finally hit her _why. _Why his presence drew her attention, why he seemed so familiar. With whispers of what the Death, aside she, had done many a century ago and universes away in her ears, it clicked.

For many centuries there were beings desperate to capture Death. Death can never be so easily caught but there was in once an 'incident' or two where Death was 'bested' by mortals and as a 'reward' for 'evading and besting' Death, they were given relics that were made by and from Death's own core. These relics often change shape depending where they were able to appear next. Sometimes they take shapes to easily blend in with their surroundings; taking forms of keys, scepters, books, once they even took on the form of a little black notebook, but rarely, though they can because of their sentience, they can take form of human. And never has there been a time wherein the three were united under one hand.

Until now.

Death should be angry, vicious in rage and maybe despairing really because someone was finally able to entrap Death. But why should she. She _knows_ how he was able to obtain these Hallows, as he called them; she knows he _never_ wanted anything to do with her except greet her, maybe, at his own demise, how all he wanted was to be _normal_, how he came to accept after _years _and **_years _**of waiting that he can _never _be rid of Death or her Hallows.

All she feels as they still lock each other gazes is contentment and, dare she say, joy. If she so really wished it, she could be free. But with this newly appointed 'master' she is most free than after Death created the Hallows.

Now no one can take Death they can try but it is for naught. So she smiles to him as she greets the boy, welcoming him to the world he managed to land himself in. "Hello, Young Master of Death."

"….Death….?"

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**AN: **Thanks again to all that viewed/followed/favorited this story!

**AN: **I might upload either this week or next week or weekend a sort of prequel to this chapter. Though that would be a separate story altogether because it's already a couple of chapters long. And it won't be in the crossover section.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters, neither am I claiming ownership to them.

**AN: **Sorry about this late posting but I've been busy with school and all that. As I said before toady28 is my beta. And this is only a part of something I'll be posting as a different story but is still part of the drabbles here, in a way. It's more of prologue to this. I'll be posting it later and it wont be a crossover story with the name _'Death Only Brings Us Closer'_ but the title might change later on, it depends . Again sorry for being late.

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Harry Potter, the son of James and Lily Potter, The-Boy-Who-Lived, The-Man-Who-Conquered, Saviour of the Wizarding World; those were the title he was known for back home. He was never known as just Harry, Lily and James' son. The titles given to him by the Wizarding World means so little to him, they also seem inaccurate for his taste (really 'The Saviour of the Wizarding World' he had only defeated Voldemort and he was only terrorizing England during his reign as the Dark Lord).

And his accomplishments? What has he accomplished?

He had only taken the life, or what's left of it, of man, if he can still qualify as one, who was a born from their society's negligence and prejudice.

In his opinion the Wizarding World of England should hardly celebrate the demise of a dark lord for too long really; they should focus on the fact that that now the current dark lord is dead they have to prepare for the new one that would soon rise. But they seemed to be more than willing to blind themselves.

Ironically the title has most sense and the one that's the most dangerous that he's gotten is 'The Master of Death', but it's one that he'd rather not share with anyone. Just from the implications of that title is…terrifying and very dangerous. People might actually _kill_ to take that title away from him, 'The Saviour of the Wizarding World' be damned.

Blending in was never his forte, so when it became apparent that he for all intent and purposes stopped aging, he knew that blending in the Wizarding World would be harder. Sure, there are ways he can hide the fact that he doesn't age anymore but there will always be wizards, witches and anyone with a way higher I.Q. than him can easily deduce that he was hiding something. They could find by accident, while he was having one of those regular medical examinations, worse they could be sensitive to the magic around them and easily sense something's off. One thing might lead to another and next thing he knows, he might be strapped down on a table in a secret lab, being tested on.

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.

Somehow he had the guts to tell Luna his situation. He knew she wouldn't judge, much, and well the only other person who can really understand just how deep the severity of his title was Hermione. And as of the moment she was busy with finding with the arrival of her and Ron's baby.

But Luna for all her…quirkiness can be strangely blunt if she wants to, being told to grow a pair and just tell their friends his problems so they can all help, that they weren't children anymore and can handle the truth. That wasn't how she phrased it but that was the general idea of what she said, this was also a lot less vulgar. She was right though, they weren't children and they've been together through thick and thin, they've been through _war _for Merlin's sake, they'd understand.

And when he told them, three months after Hermione gave birth to their first born, James Sirius (after Hermione's great-grandfather Gregory James Grant an army man and after Sirius because Hermione and Ron it owed to him), they were shocked, very shocked, but the shock they felt soon melted to resignation. _'Only you Harry, only you,',_ _'We should've known,', _and _'This isn't really that surprising anymore with you luck, mate. ' _was all they could say and well he was miffed with that. But he was glad they understood and accepted him, so they began to plan and look for solutions so the people in general won't notice Harry not aging. Ron thought that why not he go travel the world?

And why not?

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**AN:** Don't hate me but I cut it here, I'll be posting the more complete version of this later in _'Death Only Brings Us Closer_'.


	5. Chapter 5

**EDITED on July 2013:** _Re-wrote a few lines, nothing too alarming._

**AN:** _Well this is late, very late. Sorry to those who waited. And thank you to those who've recently favorited this and all._

_This chapter might be confusing. And I chose 'Peregrine' traveler apparently. Why I chose it, it goes well with 'Ignotus' when you look up it's meaning. But that's my opinion._

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.

.

Classes were in session, not that the students were happy about it.

Particularly a fifteen year old Harry Potter and his friends that have the same class as he did that afternoon: History. It's not that Professor Binns was a bad teacher…he was horrible! Always droning on and on and on about the same things over and over again! Year after year it was the same garbage that Harry and his friends heard. Usually, they'd use Prof. Binns time to either sleep or eat or skip class altogether since the professor never checks the attendance and—_"I heard," _Draco Malfoy, who was sitting beside Harry on the third row, whispered to them, _"from my father that Prof. Binns finally kicked the sack just a week before school starts and that the principal was in a frenzy trying to find a replacement in such short notice." _Draco's dad was on the school board so it wouldn't be surprising if he knew something like that happening

He spoke in a unique accent; at least it was to Harry. Harry's known Draco since both of them went to Hogwarts Primary. Draco's family was originally from England (_well his father was an Englishman, his mother grew in France_), so since he grew up here in America he had a weird mixed accent. He and Ron Weasley (_Harry's friend since before Hogwarts Primary_) would often have little fights about Draco's accent amongst other things, but having long since gotten over the hostility the treated each other with as children, mostly.

Snorting before he turned and replied to Draco, Harry said, _"Professor Dumbledore should have started looking for a new teacher years ago…I mean, he knew that Professor Binns was old, older than he certainly was even. If I were the school's principal, I would have fired Binns as my first form of action." _Don't get Harry wrong he admired the old man but sometimes he thinks that his old age is finally getting to him. "_Or maybe have him retire, since Hermione might kill me if I fire him. __But was he able to find a new teacher or do we have to deal with a new Prof. Binns? 'Cause if they did I'm outta here"_

"_I agree with you on that one. Especiall—" _But Draco was cut off as the door suddenly opened and then Dumbledore walked to the front of the class.

"Now my dear students," The Hogwarts' Principal standing in front of the class and began his little speech, "you may have _heard", _here he looked at Draco for a brief second before continuing, "about Professor Binns' unfortunate demise just last week." There was a brief, solemn, silence.

Coughing, Dumbledore continued, "Initially I asked my good friend, a Doctor Nicolas Flamel, to temporarily take over. Unfortunately he has a prior long-term engagement that he cannot cancel." Professor Dumbledore seemed a little sad about this for a moment before brightening up again, "But he was able to refer a family friend of his to take the position. He just got here to Hogwarts today and I was only able to meet him last week and finalized everything just this morning but I assure you my dear students that Mr. Peverell is quiet capable, if I do say so myself. So without further ado Mr. Peverell," Turning to the man at the door, just out of the classroom unseen by all except Dumbledore, "I shall take my leave so that you may get yourself acquainted with your classes."

And then he turned leave.

There was a beat of silence before finally the door opens more fully and in comes a male of about 5' 8" in height, with a slight built dressed in a navy sweater over a white button-up shirt and a pair of brown pants and black dress shoes, carrying a drawstring bag and a thick stack of papers in one hand and thermos in another. His back was turned to the class as he fixed his desk; the entire class was holding their breath. Then the teacher, Mr. (_or was it Professor?_) Peverell moved with his back still turned to the class wrote his name on the blackboard in clear and neat looking script saying 'Mr. Ignotus Peregrine Peverell'

"_What a girly middle name."_ Draco leaning whisper to Harry, he was given a look that said _'like you're one to talk'_ by Harry. Draco was about to retort when Mr. Peverell finally turned to face the class. And when he did everyone sat there frozen.

"My name is," Mr. Peverell said finally facing the class, his bright acid-like green eyes sweeping over the entire class, his soft British accented voice clearly heard in the spacious room, "Ignotus Peregrine Peverell. You may call me Mr. Peverell or Sir. Peverell, never," His eyes taking a harder edge, as if daring them to go against what he was saying, he continued "Mr. P, Sir Iggy, Sir Perry or Mr. Peregrine, if any of you do _dare_ to call me any names that I've listed or any other _demeaning _variant...expect detentions."

"_I_ for some, plausible, reason was _recommended _andwas able to _acquire_ this post…_without_ my knowledge or _**bloody**__ consent _might I add. So _**PLEASE**_ pardon my…ah, brusqueness this morning as I _still_ have to a lot to set up and adjustments to make so I. Do. Not. Want. Any. Codswallop!"

The class was still silent, especially with Mr. Peverell so boldly making an open threat. And on the first day of all days!

But what really had the class so quiet was Mr. Peverell's unerring resemblance to one Harry James Potter.

They had the same face shape; the same eyebrows; not exactly the same wild hair as Mr. Peverell was miraculously tamer, having been gelled slightly back; the same distinctive eye color, although Mr. Peverell's eyes had a more knowing and tired light and they were also chilling to a degree compared to Harry's warm emerald pools filled with mischief. Harry's also held more a carefree quality.

"No questions," Mr. Peverell gave the class another once over to check for reactions, "None? Good, I'll start with a roll call then I'll begin with a _short _refresher quiz to see how well all of you will do then I'll get started on discussing this year's syllabus schedule before I dismiss all of you. Is that clear?"

He didn't receive any sort of response from the class so he asked again. "Is. That. _Clear._ Class?"

A chorus of: '_Yes, Mr. Peverell_' was finally heard.

"Good, everybody pens out! I'm only giving you lot fifteen minutes to answer."

.

* * *

.

.

The moment Mr. Peverell had turned to face the class Harry, Draco, like the rest of the class froze; when he started speaking Draco broke out of his stupor and he quickly started a whispered conversation with Harry.

"_Harry!"_

"_What?"_

"_The new teacher...he…he looks...!"_

"_I know, Dray. I know!"_

"_Do you think you're related?"_

"_**NO!**__" _ Luckily for Harry, Mr. Peverell was still busy speaking to the entire class to notice his little outburst and continued, _"Look sorry Dray,"_ Here he sent an apologetic glance to Draco,_ "but I dunno….Mom and dad would've mentioned something about a relative beginning to work here to me! Or to Tom at least!" _

"_Maybe they did tell your cousin but __**he**__ didn't tell you. You know for pay back from pranking him the last time, ya know?"_

"_No way! That doesn't seem like Tom's style and besides that was ages ago!"_

"_Well he—_"No questions," Their teacher asked them loudly, looking over the entire class with his sharp eyes, making the two boys end their conversation and pay attention, "None? Good, I'll start with a roll call then I'll begin with a _short _refresher quiz to see how well all of you will do then I'll get started on discussing this year's syllabus schedule before I dismiss all of you. Is that clear?"

"_What!—"Shh he'll hear you Dray."_

"_But it's only the first day of classes!"_

Their teacher seemed to be unsatisfied with their non-answers and asked again, "Is. That. _Clear._ Class?" This time the class answered, along with Harry and Draco, although Draco seemed to sulk more as he answered.

"Good, everybody pens out! I'm only giving you lot fifteen minutes to answer."

When everyone in class received the papers, they were all shocked to see that they were supposed to answer fifty questions under fifteen minutes!

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**beta'd by: **_toady28_

**AN:**_ Confusing as it is, Ignotus Peverell is only an alias Harry happens to be using._

_I would've uploaded this a few days ago but I've re-wrote and added a few lines._

_I admit I'm not particularly busy now with school, in truth I'm on vacation already but I'm catching up on my reading, among other things._

_I still type it's just that not as fast as I would want to, as most of my ideas tend to come when it's nearing midnight, though now that's school's out I'm rarely __awake by 11 because my parents don't want me up too late._

_Anyone up for_ **suggesting **_a schedule/classes for Harry and the others for this?_


	6. Chapter 6

**AN:** _I liked writing this. It's a prequel of sorts to the last chapter. This is not beta'd. This came to me while writing another drabble but I'm not so sure, it was a few days ago. So, any mistakes are mine and I'd love it if someone point out if there are any._

**Disclaimer:** _I don't own Harry Potter._

* * *

'

Harry and Tom rarely got along as children. It was a fact both their parents accepted. But the two of them didn't actively try to make the other's life miserable, they tolerated and respected each other.

Well as much as young children could tolerate and respect.

When Tom was eight, he came to live with the Potters after both of his parents passed away. Harry was still six at the time (having only started Hogwarts Primary) and didn't really have a grasp on what had happened. Tom was slightly older ergo had a better understanding on what had happened (his mother was not joking when she had said her son was a genius, in fact she _rarely _joked, people just assumed otherwise). He and Harry didn't suddenly get chummy, Tom was actually a lot colder than he usually was for a few weeks after the funeral. Wouldn't even talk for a bit. But he eventually mellowed out a bit after listening to his younger cousin's 'logic' and his aunt talking-_consoling, really-_had helped him greatly .

The dynamics of the way they treated each other was still the same. They still argued over trivial things like children their age would do. But those hardly held any heat, it became more of a banter between them. The only thing that possibly changed was that Tom has become a bit more...protective, in his own meticulous way, towards his remaining family, the Potters.

* * *

For example: Dudley, _Harry's_ cousin, in a plain and understandable, irrefutable way, was a bully(still is, probably), but to be more specific: an uncultured and moronic bully. Still, a bully nonetheless. And one that would not leave Harry alone; despite them being related closer than Tom and Harry.

As stated Tom recently became protective of his family, his naive little cousin included. His naive little cousin who did nothing wrong to Dudley Dursley nor did his naive little cousin who never once thought to try to actively and/or purposely antagonize Dudley Dursley. But that seemed to matter not to the little pig; he'd trip Harry when he thought no one was there to see. He'd call him nasty things [_that sometimes had Harry crying and run to Tom for comfort, resulting to a snot covered uniform and a thoroughly annoyed little eight year old boy with a mile high(perhaps more) vindictive streak_]. And in school, because for some _**unfathomable**_ reason Dudley Dursley was able to attend Hogwarts Primary, he'd go ahead and swipe Harry's homework and tear it up in front of Harry to see. That proved his stupidity though, seeing as after Dudley had come and tore Harry's homework by the second time, Tom decided to intervene. He knows how to use a copier (and for some reason his uncle owns a fully functioning one in their home's garage). Dudley the idiot that he is does not notice that the paper of the 'homework' he swipes from Harry does not have the ruled lines in the back unlike the front. He, Dudley, thought himself the perfect little angel, a delusion he probably believed thanks to his parents, if they could be called that. However Tom kept his observation about the elder Dursleys to himself, he _does_ have a high amount of respect for Harry's mother. His father too.

And Harry, poor, poor, _**poor**__;_ naive Harry does not want to _jeopardize_ his mother's already shaky relationship with her sister. Tom was not of the same opinion there. His aunt, Harry's mother, Mrs. Lily Potter formerly Evans, is a nice and altogether lovely woman. She was a loving wife to James Potter, devoted mother to Harry and an aunt whose patience really shows no matter how moody Tom gets.

Her sister, Petunia Dursley formerly Evans, was a rotten woman, in young Tom's opinion that is. She seems like the type that loves to gossip rather than do something actually productive. A freeloader if one were to compare. She, it seems( and is very apparent), does not wish a reconciliation between her and her sister. Seeing as Mrs. Potter was the only one giving effort to rekindle their relation. Her sister, Petunia Dursley, just seems to have an irrational and immature hate and jealousy for her _younger_ sister.

Her husband, Vernon Dursley, was no better, a hideous bully in his own right. He most probably _encourages_ his son to act the way he did, thinking he had the right to. Fashioning himself as a king in his own delusional world that would never happen nor would that world ever exist, so mote it be.

* * *

Tom offered to scare Dudley off but Harry wouldn't allow it-_"But Tommy, Dudley's bigger than you!" "It's Tom, Harry. Only Tom."-_. Sadly Dudley being larger than Tom was true, grotesquely so. But Tom did not try to do anything to Dudley and helped Harry as much as Harry would allow him-_"I'm six! Not sick!" "...physically." "Huh?"-_.

That changed though when Harry had an accident and landed in a cast. It seemed that Harry's left arm was _somehow _fractured _during_ school but Harry had no Phys. Ed. that day.

Tom _knew_ that ugly pig was responsible. He was not sure as to what exactly happened, neither did Harry. But he was sure Dudley had a hand in that incident, he was one of the few that held dislike for Harry in school (the other being Professor Snape but was ruled out since he teaches at Hogwarts proper and not Hogwarts Primary, Harry was after-all a generally well-liked kid by both his peers and the older students, the Hogwarts Primary's staff included).

* * *

He, Tom, waited for two months to pass before retaliating. He was patient. He plotted and schemed. He recruited a few accomplices(the Weasley Twins from his year were more than happy to help, Abraxas did not really have a choice) to help enact his plans.

When their plan( the Twins added lovely input to make the plan more interesting, for them at least) were finally put to action, it ended with Dudley's agony, humiliation and expulsion from Hogwarts.

No one, bar himself and his accomplices, knew they had anything to do with Dudley's expulsion and his miserable month before it, they made sure of it.

And if a few weeks after Dudley's expulsion, Vernon were to suddenly get fired from the firm he worked in, on the grounds that someone was swindling the company's funding and evidence somehow was found in the computer on Vernon's desk to be part of it and be declared a suspect of sorts; well, _that_ would be pure, unadulterated coincidence.

Young Tom Riddle may be a genius but he has yet to extend his interest in computers, still preferring to read books.

* * *

**AN:**_ Sorry to those who read this fic as it started with the Avengers but posting the recent chapters, they seem to no longer have anything to do with it Avengers anymore. Give me time, I'm still writing those I just need time since I'm re-writing some parts since it seems so OOC for me. Just wait. Although it might be long._


	7. Chapter 7

_**EDITED:July 17, 2013; Changed and added some things.**_

_Disclaimer: I own none of them_

_AN: Read AN at the bottom._

* * *

.

.

Everything's airy and light.

The colours are mellowed somehow.

They're in an apricot building.

School?

Most probably.

There's noise.

So much of it.

He's surrounded by his friends.

They're all in kindergarten

They're wearing those pastel blue airy uniforms, the girls wore puffier shorts though.

Classes start.

The room they're in is pale.

Everyone is finding a place to sit.

He sits on the padded floor, not in front but neither is he at the back.

He turns his attention forward.

There's a man up front.

Their teacher?

Most probably.

Their teacher looks familiar.

Lucien?

But Lucien has no business with the Waking.

Is he dreaming then?

He's sure that he's nowhere near the Dreaming.

He's not one to question things.

At least not anymore.

He's fond of Lucien though.

The librarian let's him stay a little longer than was permitted in the library.

His uncle certainly didn't mind, it was his library after all.

But as _he _said so _himself_, _he_'s not as _he _was once was.

He's still put out that he couldn't make it to the man's funeral.

But he's met his uncle and _he _said it was fine, said _his _brother didn't attend either, technically, and _he _says _he _wanted to attend as well but there are rules.

He, himself, follows them.

Usually.

The bell rings again.

Classes ends.

Oh dear.

He didn't really pay attention to what Lucien said.

Nonetheless, he stands up just as the other do.

Lucien, as he herds the rambunctious children out the door, smiles slightly when he passed.

The dream even patted his head when he passed.

The children are outside.

Him as well.

The colours didn't exactly intensify.

It's recess.

It's also chaos.

Children laughing and screaming.

Delirium could be felt in their happiness.

It would be nice if she's here.

But she's not.

He is _her _favourite family member to poke at.

But she has no real business in Dreaming.

That has never really stopped her before though.

He wanders off.

And he's sitting in the tree's shade.

He blinks and tilts his head.

He wonders and ponders on when and how he's gotten himself there.

He stares for a bit into space.

"_HARRY!"_

And then he's being tackled to the ground by Peter and Gwen.

He tastes the grass.

He doesn't mind.

It actually tastes like cotton candy.

Then again it is pink.

He's laughing now.

The three of them are.

Full of smiles.

Wade's there, though when the three of them suddenly calmed he looks ike he'd jump in their pile as well.

The three just give him a look that dares him to disrupt them.

He backs off, a little put off but somehow used to the three of them just wanting him not ruining their moments.

Eventually they stand up.

Peter's missing a tooth, so when he smiles there's gap in it.

Wade sported several more scratches on his knees, probably he can't stay in one place for more than a minute.

Gwen oddly enough wore bright orange headband to keep back her short hair from her face, but it was little large for her head and would often slip.

All in all they're bright.

Compared to the pastel background that sways every other beat at least.

He was about to open his mouth to ask them something.

The bell rings again.

He closes his gob.

He and the others just walk back to where Lucien waits.

The librarian stands there by the door, that gentle suffering smile still on his face, per usual, as he greets the children again.

He's the last one to enter.

He stops and blinks again and tilts his head up to look up at him.

"Who's that?"

He was referring to the raven perched on the librarian's shoulder.

"This is Jessamy. Matthew's gotten himself in trouble again. And Tethys is out on an errand as per Eve's request."

Lucien's suffering smile intensifies a bit.

"Ah..."

From what he remembers, those ravens have already died.

Again.

Bar Tethys.

Never met that one, yet.

...wait.

Nevermind.

"Yes. Well, because of that, I need to leave early today. Come along young master, Director Fury will be watching the class since my leaving is in such short notice."

The librarian leads him back to the throng of children.

"Your mother will, however, still be picking you up in a couple hours. Nothing to worry about."

"If you say so."

Although it seemed Lucien had enough time to read to the children a story for naptime before leaving.

His sleeping mat was a pale and dusty blue-grey thing with the symbol of Death's Hallows in white; not that any of the children he's with knows it meanings.

Peter's was blue with a red spider outlined black.

Gwen had a mint green one with the periodic table printed on it.

Wade's looked like on of those S.H.E.I.L.D. Sanctioned sleeping mats, devoid of colour.

He was curled together with Peter and Gwen.

Wade was to their left.

And just as Lucien finishes the story, just as Harry was sleepily closing his eyes, sandwiched between Peter and Gwen; he wakes up.

.

* * *

.

.

He wakes up.

Looking around he's on the couch. Peter's on the other end, passed out as well. Gwen was covered in a blanket, sleeping in front of the couch where Harry woke up on. Wade was in an uncomfortable position on the only arm chair in his apartment.

It was a Movie Marathon Weekend as per their tradition. He briefly wonders what brought about that dream before getting up as quietly as he can to make breakfast for all of them. Dark as the apartment is, it's been his for some time now and he knows the way despite the lack of light, bathing everything an odd blue.

"_Mreow._"

He looks down, arms full of things he needs to make the four of them breakfast, and sees the little black kitten trying to get out of one of the numerous take-out boxes scattered in his apartment because it was a Movie Marathon Weekend and they haven't really left his apartment since Friday night. Navy-blue eyes were mildly pleading at him.

"_Nnrraow."_

Sighing, he banishes the ingredients back to the fridge, the bowls and other utensils back to the cupboards and picks up the kitten, heading towards his small bedroom; leaving his friends to sleep in some more in his living room.

"Alright, Tom, you win. Off to bed we go. This means you play nice with Loki this Tuesday though, you hear?" He whispers to the little shapeshifter as he strokes his fur and the boy nuzzles him in response.

He climbs to his bed, unlike most of the furniture and the apartment itself, it was in a rather nice shape, and slept for a few more hours. The little shapeshifter enclosed in his arms.

The wards in his room is set to wake him up when it strikes eleven that morning. Or if his friends wake. Whatever comes first.

.

* * *

_._

_._

_AN: Still looking for a beta. Reason for needing a beta, out of the 30,000+ words worth several different chapters of varying length, only 12,000 (more or less) have been uploaded. So yeah, I need a beta._


	8. Chapter 8

_Disclaimer: I own none of them._

_AN: Read previous chapter, it's been replaced and revised chapter 5 a bit, might do that to other chapters too but not now._

_._

* * *

.

.

Harry could not believe his luck, but considering his track record maybe he shouldn't be _too _surprised that when he landed in this version of Earth, who was he to meet but none other than Nicolas Flamel, _the_ Nicolas Flamel, the _same _one from his original world/timeline that disappeared/apparently died shortly after the whole fiasco in his first year with the mirror and the Philosopher's stone; and the _same_ Nicolas bloody Flamel that got him into this mess.

.

* * *

.

.

Right now he was waiting with him for a job interview since _Nicolas_ thought it a great idea to recommend _him_ for a teaching post to an old friend who was frantically looking for a replacement as the old one died _unexpectedly_(_Really now, from what he could pry off from Nicolas, the old one was in his mid-nineties, _why_ would it be such a _surprise _now that he dropped dead_).

Now _normally _Harry wouldn't have a problem with this sort of thing, in fact he'd usually be grateful and he's quite fond of teaching in his personal opinion…_but _he'd rather have it that he was _aware _of, say at the very least _a week_ or three earlier, that he _will_ be having a job interview and _**not**_ five hours _before _said interview. But Harry's ire (_and _hidden panic) only grew when he found out just _who_ Nicolas' friend was: _**Albus Dumbledore**_.

'_He did this on _purpose_._' Harry thought as Dumbledore approached them; even this Earth's Dumbledore is still in possession of his bizarre taste for clothing. _'_

_Oh dear,__'_ Harry saw the surprise in Dumbledore's eye when he finally caught sight of him, _'don__'__t tell me this is actually the _same _Dumbledore from home.__'_ He was just about ready to pull out his hair if that was the case because he going really _skin _Nicolas for sure for surprising Harry like this.

"Harry my boy," An American accent, as far as Harry can remember Dumbledore (_the one from home, the loony grandfatherly figure he love and grew up with despite his faults_) was no good with faking an accent, so this was probably _not _the same Dumbledore from home (_who was back from the dead and__/or__ was given a new life in another world or something__ like that_), who was speaking to him right now; because while the Dumbledore from home was no good with faking accents, he was amazing in hiding/diminishing his magic's presence. Dumbledore had tried to learn to fake an accent (_if the stories Abeforth told him were true_) but was a spectacular failure no matter how hard he tried. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to still be in Virginia with your parents? Did your father decided to surprise your mother at the last minute and neither of your uncles able to watch over you? I didn't even know your parents knew Nicolas here."

"Actually Albus," Nicolas said as he got up, Harry was still sending him a discreet glare because of the humour Nicolas finds in this situation from his seat next to the chair Nicolas vacated, "_this_ is Ignotus Peverell, a close family friend of mine. He's the one I suggested when you asked me if I knew anyone who could take the job on such short notice over the phone. I've known him since he was but a _boy_. He's very reliable and trustworthy, believe me Albus."

Nicolas sent him a discreet wink when he said_ 'since he was but a _boy_'_and Harry sent a tight smile to his direction briefly, before giving a more genuine one to Dumbledore. "Pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Sir," he said as he stood and stretched his hand to shake Dumbledore's hand.

"Well it is nice to meet you as well Mr Peverell, my apologies as well I thought you were a student of mine. He'd be starting his fifth year in Hogwarts this year and your resemblance to him is uncanny so pardon an old man for his mistake." Dumbledore said as he shook Harry's hand.

"It's understandable, Mr Dumbledore, people make mistakes. No harm done. And please call me Ignotus, I feel too young to be called that." Which wasn't true as Harry was older than this Dumbledore.

"Then I insist on you calling me Albus."

"Very well, Albus."

.

* * *

.

.

That evening he was somehow hired to be Hogwarts' new History teacher. Although it seemed that Harry needed to only show himself, as it appears Nicolas had been contacted by Dumbledore earlier that week and instead of outright refusal, Nicolas was buttered up some (_obviously false_) details about him and his personal history. He even went as far as getting false documents and credentials to back his story. Now he needed to make a syllabus and all in the course of a few days as class will start on Wednesday this week. But that wasn't his main problem now, neither was Nicolas (_although Harry already started planning payback somewhere in the back of his mind_), it was what Dumbledore said during the dinner that him a little apprehensive of the job first but, well, it _would _certainly be an interesting experience as it would be quite fascinating seeing himself as a fifteen year old teenager. He might end up just messing with some of his future students' head if they won't listen.

_'That and,'_ Harry admits to himself mentally, _'if I'm not mistaken, means that this version of my self would have yet to get the growth spurt I had wanted when I was younger...' _ The fact that this world seems to not hold magic and this version of him still had and grew up with his parents (_meaning Voldemort/Tom Riddle may not exist here at all since they live_) would mean this version of him was taller. Or will be taller. Harry knows life is unfair, that's why he prefers death.

By that Harry meant that he understands those who are already dead easier then that of the living since they're dead and they can't really lie to him. No matter how much they may want.


End file.
